


Devotion & Desire

by wyntre



Series: Love You to Death [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blood Play, Bondage and Discipline, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Knife Play, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, Submissive Crowley (Good Omens), Wax Play, this is a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 22:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntre/pseuds/wyntre
Summary: Crowley needs this. He needs to be reminded of his place at the feet of the Principality. He needs to be reminded to worship the Angel of The Eastern Gate.Or;Crowley is very subby and Aziraphale is a very good Dom.





	Devotion & Desire

Aziraphale trailed the knife up Crowley’s bare torso, pressing just hard enough to leave red scratches in its wake. The demon, strapped to the bed; lengths of deep red rope anchoring his wrists, and a cold metal spreader bar pressing against his ankles, was deep into subspace already and they hadn't even gotten started. He forced Crowley to look up by placing the tip of the knife under his chin. Aziraphale was still fully clothed in a pure white tuxedo, with gold-worked cuffs and collar; and Crowley, naked but for a tiny black lace skirt, crotchless panties and thigh-highs, was gloriously wanton beneath him. 

“Look at you.” The angel dug the tip of the knife just below the skin on the underside of Crowley’s chin. “So lovely. I could leave you like this.” The small nick drew blood and Crowley hissed at the pain, sending shockwaves straight to his Effort. He had manifested an absolutely stunning cunt for this evening's playtime, which was soaking wet and aching. 

"Colour?"

"Green."

Aziraphale's lips quirked up at the sides, pulling the knife away from Crowley's chin and using it to circle his sensitive nipples. He pressed hard enough to draw blood again, this time leaving a small cut along Crowley's toned chest. Deciding he'd had enough of the knife, Aziraphale placed it to one side and miracled a lit candle. Agonisingly, the angel began pouring wax onto Crowley's abdomen - who moaned loudly when the liquid made contact. 

"Hush, demon, or I'll have to gag you." Aziraphale waved his hand absently and a black ball gag appeared beside Crowley. "Remember the safeword and gesture?"

Crowley nodded, and the gag was around his head, forcing his lips apart. He was thankful that he didn't need to breathe. Aziraphale miracled the candle away, and shuffled down to the heat between Crowley's slim thighs. He ran a finger up and down, feeling the dampness and smirking. "So wet already. I'm gonna make you feel good, because that's all you deserve. To feel good. No coming until I say." He threw Crowley's thighs over his shoulders, spreading the labia and experimentally dragging a broad flat tongue from Crowley's entrance to his clit, where he stayed. He lapped, sucked and nibbled. He worshipped Crowley's cunt, and ate it like it was the best meal he had ever tasted. Crowley’s moans were muffled by the gag and Aziraphale just hummed, enjoying himself a little too much. He resurfaced a while later, wiping wetness from his chin.    
“You didn’t come, I’m proud of you. You’re so good. So beautiful.” Aziraphale performed another small miracle, and Crowley was tied in another configuration. The spreader bar and gag were gone, and his long arms were bound behind his back, rope forming an intricate knot around his narrow wrists. Aziraphale grabbed a handful of Crowley’s long, flaming locks and forced him to stand.    
“On your knees.” And Crowley dropped. He ignored the pain that coursed through his knees when he collided with the cold tiles, he couldn’t think beyond Aziraphale in front of him; gleaming white and angelic and so, so powerful. “You’re incredible, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was low, and Crowley’s head was snapped upwards by the hand still tangled in his hair. “I have never seen someone as beautiful as you.” His eyes, always a peculiarly hard to define colour, had gone the most intense blue Crowley had ever seen them. Large, iridescent wings unfurled themselves from the pocket dimension Aziraphale kept them in. 

And Crowley was reminded of exactly who had decided to love him.   
Crowley would worship the very air Aziraphale would pass through. He needed this. He needed to be reminded who he was, who he belonged to. Where his place was. And his place was here, at Aziraphale’s feet. Bound, gagged, hoping. Praying almost. But Crowley didn’t pray.  _ He didn’t _ . He hadn’t prayed for years. He worshipped. And the only thing, the only _ being _ , he worshipped was Aziraphale.    
“Please,” Crowley begged. He was soft and, pleading. The slit pupils of his sunlight eyes blown wide with lust and want. “I’m yours. Please just… Use me.”   
Aziraphale said nothing. He kept one hand tangled in Crowley’s hair and used the other to pull his sizeable cock out through the front of his pants. He remained fully clothed as he guided Crowley’s lovely mouth to his throbbing cock. Inch by inch, the angel fed Crowley his cock until he was buried to the hilt. Then, he started to fuck Crowley’s mouth, slowly, deeply; keeping a hand fisted in his hair and it was all Crowley could do to stop himself coming from simply being used like this. Used as he was meant to be used. For Aziraphale, by Aziraphale. On his knees, in front of the angel; taking what was given to him and thanking every moment that the angel deemed worthy to spend with him, every stroke in and out.    
“Good Lord, Crowley. Your mouth is divine.” Crowley moaned around Aziraphale’s cock, and then it was gone, and he was being hauled back onto the bed. When he really got going, Aziraphale was rough. He knew what he wanted, but he also knew that Crowley needed this. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” Aziraphale stated, buisnesslike and cold. “You cannot come. If you come on my cock you will be punished. You belong to me. You belong to me only.” The angel thrust inside brutally and Crowley cried out at the intrusion into his pussy; but before Aziraphale started to move, he miracled himself even bigger; stretching and filling Crowley’s delightfully tight cunt.    
“Colour?”   
“Green.”   
Aziraphale pinned Crowley down by his shoulders and started to move. He was gentle at first, stroking in and out slowly until Crowley was a shaking, sobbing mess. Each thrust angled just so, making contact with his g-spot every time. Aziraphale sped up, chasing his own pleasure. Crowley keened below him, too overwhelmed to do anything but let the angel remind him of his place.    
“You’re so good to me, Crowley. You feel so good. You look so beautiful, lying there; taking all of me. This is where you belong. Under me. You were made to serve me.”    
“I was made to serve you, Sir.”    
Crowley’s gasped out honorific sent Aziraphale careening off the edge and into oblivion. As the angel came, he saw stars and the very earth beneath them shook. Breathing hard, he pulled out, miracled himself clean and tucked himself away.    
“I haven’t finished with you yet.” Aziraphale clicked his fingers and a large, vibrating dildo appeared in his hand. Crowley’s eyes went wide as Aziraphale worked it into Crowley’s dripping cunt. He switched it to the lowest setting, a constant thrum keeping Crowley on edge. But he hadn’t been told he could come yet, so he willed his mounting orgasam to remain behind its gates. With the dildo in his pussy, Aziraphale ran the pad of his thumb over Crowley’s engorged clit.    
“You’re staying like this, until I tell you otherwise.” 


End file.
